Sentry
by FugueState
Summary: A brief moment between V and Finch, post-"Mending".


11:37  
Male in front of chemist's shop at Regent and Beak.  
One male one female, on foot at West entrance of New Hyde Park.  
Emergency, assault at Spurgeon Street; three male subjects, armed, beating a male and female; notify nearest patrol unit.

11:38  
Robbery in progress, residence 3368 Langton Gate; two subjects seen; notify nearest patrol unit.  
Two females on foot near Southwark Bridge, South.  
One male, green bicycle, Prince Albert Road near St. George statue.

11:39

Finch's back ached where he sat before the array of security monitors. The dull throbbing had begun over an hour ago, and still he sat. His eyes burned from the glare of the screens in the surrounding darkness and his tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth from thirst, but his vigil remained unbroken.

The Eye and Ear of Norsefire had been severed for some little time now, but that didn't mean the information stopped flowing. Quite the contrary; in the Shadow Gallery everything still ran to perfection. That discovery had appalled Finch in the beginning, knowing just how much power and control V had really had at his disposal. Later, as he stayed with Evey in this disconnected twilit world, he'd been compelled by it. Here was a link to what remained of the life he'd known. Here were answers to at least some of his questions as to how - or _if_ - it was surviving.

The next step had been so easy, once he discovered the triple-encrypted Interlink Communications System controls. The cameras had shown him a mob heading for a handful of shops, starting to break windows, and he'd sent out a message to his former partner. He knew Detective Stone would deduce the message's origin, but he wouldn't be able to trace or prove anything. In that respect, at least, they were both safe.

It wasn't until he heard the dispatch to intercept the mob that he realized just how helpless he'd been feeling. The adrenalin that had piled up made him want to whoop in triumph at the sight of the patrol units coming into view on the small monitor.

_He_ had made that happen.

Hours slipped past in a haze of watching, reporting, watching... One more monitor, he would promise himself. One more minute. One more call. His stomach growled at one point but he ignored it, and it stopped. His eyes began to droop, so he stood up and paced before the glowing miniature images until he could return to watching. Just one more. One more...

"Come now, Mr. Finch. Too much television's bad." The quiet voice behind him brought him spinning around in guilty startlement.

There he stood at last - V, as Finch had previously known him. There was no cape adding bulk to his form, nor the knives, but that made him no less intimidating. The force of his personality alone was a tangible thing, and here in this darkened room there scarcely seemed to be enough space to contain him. The blue light from the monitors was giving the illusion of movement to the mask and it leered at Finch where he sat.

In V's chair.

In V's chair, with V's equipment that he'd been using with such cavalier abandon.

Eric stood, his stiffened muscles making the movement awkward. "I'm sorry-"

V raised a reassuring hand and gave a small shake of his head. He stepped forward, and Finch noticed he was limping. It compromised the vigilante's presence somewhat, and the room felt a little less claustrophobic for it.

The mask's gaze passed over the security feeds one by one. "It can be addictive, can it not? To see everything... hear everything. I remember when I first built this room, how long I stayed here with these hypnotic images... _'Power confuses itself with virtue and tends also to take itself for omnipotence'._"

He looked back at Finch and the two men shared a brief moment of understanding.

V turned to exit at last, then paused. "The only time you should be sorry, Mr. Finch, is when you cannot walk away from them."

He continued out the door, with Finch resolutely following.

.

_~ Fin ~_

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Quotes:

"Too much television..." - Alan Moore, "V for Vendetta"  
"Power confuses itself..." - J. William Fulbright


End file.
